


Andromeda

by winkingmagpie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Eventual Relationships, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2652953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winkingmagpie/pseuds/winkingmagpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noreen Moriarty wasn’t in her son’s life very long, but if she taught him anything, it was to look at the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Andromeda

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a post (http://mortefere.tumblr.com/post/102436279364/can-we-please-take-a-moment-to-imagine) that bullet points Jim Moriarty's devotion to the stars and the universe. Thanks to mortefere for inspiring this work and giving me permission to write this fic. There will be sixteen chapters to cover the sixteen bullet points. Andromeda is a constellation made up of sixteen stars.

Her water broke.

The young mother touched the round bump of her stomach and felt the panic rising in her chest. It was too early. She was home alone. Their phone line had been cut because of too many unpaid late bills. Grabbing her best coat (the one with only two patches in it), she headed for the door out into the rain. A puff of air swirled in front of her, a breath of determination. 

*****

“Ms. Moriarty, you need to keep breathing. Just keep breathing. In and out. In and out. Just like that, love.”

Noreen opened her eyes, squinting immediately at the bright florescent lights above her. She hardly remembered passing out at the end of the lane leading up to her house. 800 meters never seemed like an eternity before. She just kept going. Left foot, right foot. Left, right, left. The mud caked her shoes. It was brown and wet. She remembered it feeling soft against her cheek as she fell…

“Stay awake, Noreen. Keep breathing.”

A different voice. The doctor, not the nurse. She sounded firmer than the male voice that had spoken before. Though unsure how she made it to the hospital, Noreen was suddenly very aware of her body. Her stomach felt tight in too many places. The muscles in her torso and lower back were searing in pain as though on fire. She could feel her insides rebelling against her. _Get it out, get it out, get it out!_

“But it isn’t time yet! Not yet!”

*****

James Moriarty was a premature baby. Noreen Moriarty was underweight, with prominent collar bones and small hips. Though there are often no specific causes for premature birth, she was never in the best health to be pregnant. The umbilical cord had wrapped around Jim’s throat, leaving his tiny lips blue, his lungs straining. The doctors saved his life, but the baby needed to be stabilized. He needed care. Jim was put in a special unit where all preemies go.

Noreen watched her son for the first two weeks of his life from behind safety glass. She stood there each day, forehead pressing against the window, fingers tugging at her hospital gown. From the hallway, she watched her son with tubes in his nose, monitor on his chest. She worried. She worried the baby hadn’t developed properly. She worried that her falling face-forward when 34 weeks pregnant would cause damage. She worried that Jim would die because she hadn’t been able to carry him in her stomach any longer. That he wouldn’t recover. That it was her fault. That she was already doing him wrong.

The first time Noreen could touch Jim, it was two hours after his birth. He hadn’t cried when he was born, and she screamed for an answer when the doctors took him away. They told her later it had been because of the cord around his neck. A mother panicking isn’t high on their priority list when a blue baby is born. When she had finally approached Jim’s incubator, medical equipment beeping beside her, Noreen reached forward with timid fingers to brush Jim’s hand. He whined. And it was the most beautiful sound Noreen could ever recall. It was all she could have ask for. She was thinking all of these things as she fell into a restless sleep.

“Ms. Moriarty? Noreen? Ms. Moriarty, you can hold your baby now if you’d like.”

The sound of the nurse’s gentle voice was grating on Noreen’s ears. She hadn’t slept well for three days now. The hospital food, though better than the meager meals she made at home, kept coming back up in the toilet in her nerves. She just wanted to hold her baby. She just wanted to be sure he was alright.

“I can hold him?”

The realization shocked her system. Immediately, Noreen scrambled out of the lounge chair she had taken to instead of the itchy hospital bed and hurried to the ICU. She stopped short at Jim’s bedside. She looked down at the little life before her. His chest rose and fell softly. He was breathing steadily. She matched her inhales and exhales with his and felt something warm spreading just beneath her skin. Noreen moved carefully. Leaning down, she scooped up her son and wrapped him in her arms. She side stepped towards a large window. The horizontal blinds were already pulled up, the ugly floral curtains tied back to let the moonlight shine through. Noreen held Jim close to her chest, brushing a long finger over his small brow and kissing his forehead. The boy was quiet. His eyelids drooped over his midnight blue eyes*.

“Hi, Jim.”

The baby squirmed to resettle in his mother’s arms. The stars were bright, shining just enough to reflect in those glassy orbs as they drifted off to sleep. Noreen cried. Her tears fell down her thin nose onto Jim’s cheek. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered, patting the wet spot off her son’s translucent skin. Jim stirred again but slept on. Noreen glanced up to the sky. It was around midnight. She looked at the stars and found Orion’s Belt, perhaps the easiest constellation to find across the globe.

“You know, Orion’s Belt is worn by the giant huntsman Orion,” Noreen whispered to her son. “He was born to the son of a poor shepherd, just like you. When Zeus, Hermes, and Poseidon came to visit Orion’s father Hyrieus, they were so pleased with his generosity the gods told him they would grant him a wish. Hyrieus wanted a child. So the gods told him to bury the hide of an ox and wait nine months. Nine months later Orion was born, and he grew up to be handsome and strong.”

Noreen kissed the top of her son’s head again. Jim’s eyes had opened again, though he remained quiet. His eyes were wide with what Noreen felt reflected wonder. She smiled at him.

“Do you like the stars?”

Again she was met with silence, but the baby boy looked at his mother and then to the night sky. Noreen couldn’t help but laugh softly in surprise joy.

*****

When the doctor came in to tell Noreen she could leave with her son the next morning, the mother felt a mix of cheer and dread. It had been three weeks. Normally the doctors wanted to keep premature babies in until they complete their full term, but Jim had been doing surprisingly well. He had been stable since the first few rocky nights of his birth. There was no reason to keep the Moriarty’s waiting any longer. The problem was Noreen didn’t want to leave for home.

“Couldn’t we stay a little longer? Jim was born six weeks early, not three. What if something happens?” Noreen tried to hide the desperation in her voice.

“If anything happens you can come back to hospital. We’re just a phone call away, and your neighbor offered to drive again if anything happened.”

The O’Kelly couple lived on the neighboring farm several acres away from their lot. It was lucky Aoife had driven by on the night of Jim’s birth. There was no telling how long Noreen would have lain in the mud had she not been driving by to see her pass out.

“Just one more night, please.” Noreen heard the crack in her voice at the last word.

The doctor shook her head. It was hard to be so stern towards new mothers. Especially mothers from poor households. But hospitals were not hotels, and there was simply no more room in the inn.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Moriarty. I have other patients.”

Noreen watched the woman leave, lab coat swirling behind her. The nurse came in then to present the young mother with a kit of baby supplies. Noreen sank back, sitting on the hospital bed hardly listening to the man explain how to care for a primer child.

That night Noreen brought Jim to the window again to tell him about the Plough. She swung back and forth, back and forth, cradling her son as he slept.

“It’s part of Ursa Major. The ‘Charles his waine’ some call it, which comes from the word ‘Charlemagne.’ You know what it means? ‘Men’s wagon.’ Which meant women got the small wagon from Ursa Minor. Ladies always get less, huh?”

Jim blinked, uncomprehending. Noreen looked back up to the constellations.

“I always thought it was a big and little spoon. The rich got the big spoon. The poor got the little spoon. Either way, I never have enough.”

The mother and son stood at the window for as long as the nurses would allow. When it was time, Noreen put her son back in his bed and she retreated to her room. The next morning she would be returning home. Once the hospital released her, it would be back to the nightmares. She looked down at the baby she had carried in her belly, the baby she had brought into the world. For a moment, she felt sorry.

“I will take you out star gazing every night I can, sweetheart. I promise.”

She brushed the thin strands of hair on top of Jim’s head. She wished every night could be as peaceful as this. Logic told her otherwise. She knew better than to think her husband would have a change of heart upon meeting his son.

***** 

The uncomfortable feelings Noreen had felt yesterday morning settled in her stomach once more. No baby should be raised in hospital. No baby should be raised in a bad home either.

Marcas Moriarty never wanted children. He had four of them to three different women. Noreen thought of the ways she could convince him this child was special. That he didn’t have to ignore him like he ignored the others. That he didn’t have to ignore him like Marcas ignored her. Noreen gripped the strap of her bag as she turned for the main door.

She had signed out after the last few check-ups by the nurses and doctor. Noreen had secretly hoped they would find something to keep them there. She then mentally berated herself for wishing such a thing. Jim was doing well, though he was still small. Just two and a half kilograms. But he had been sleeping each night and taking food. There was no excuse. It was time to go.

Noreen stood at the coach stop. She kept Jim close to her, holding him with both arms like a shield. Her bag hung heavily on her shoulder, money crammed into her pocket. She boarded the shabby red coach and struggled to collect change. The coins fell, dropping with soft _plunks_ in front of a woman who was already sitting down. The driver looked annoyed. Time was money, and there it was rolling across the dirty floor. The passenger already seated helped with a smile, picking up the coins. Noreen smiled weakly, more in a grimace, before taking the Euros and handing them over. The driver ignored her completely. She left to sit down.

As the sights of Dublin city passed by the window, the young mother shut her eyes and pretended to be on the ocean. There it would be warm. There she could count the stars in the reflection of the ocean waves. She could tell him of Peter Pan and how he lived among the stars, and God too, both in their own type of Neverland. There she could read about constellations and tell her Jim everything he needed to know about the heavens that wasn’t found in the Bible. She could tell him about asteroids. She could point out the galaxies and planets and every piece of the light years above them. There they could be away from it all, floating in the space that met the horizon.

At her stop Noreen stepped off the coach and walked to her home. It was almost 2 kilometers from the main road to her lane. Jim started whining already. At least the sun was out.

The mud had dried by now. The unnamed lane to her house was now compact dirt. The farm pastures to the left and right were bright green with sheep dotting the fields. She bowed her head with Jim pressed to her heart. Marcus wouldn’t be home yet. It would be hell when he arrived. At least she could show Jim around their makeshift home before they hid away upstairs.

The Moriarty house was small, made of stone with a thatched roof that leaked every time it rained. Marcas had been meaning to fix that for years now. There were rain buckets and empty bottles on the living room floor that could easily be tripped over in a drunken state. The kitchen was small and held as much warmth as a graveyard. The closet sized bathroom had stained walls and squeaky faucets. The upstairs was in a similar state. Almost. The first bedroom looked like a farmer’s shed. There were shears and hoes and shovels strewn all over the place. Mud caked the floor. The smell of dirt and manure remained no matter how hard Noreen scrubbed the floors.  The master bedroom was a different story entirely. Noreen stepped through with Jim, dropping her bag on the neatly made bed. The room was clean as though barely used. There was one dresser, one closet, and a cradle near a single electric heater that didn’t work. Noreen sighed.

“This is home.”

That’s when the front door slammed.

***** 

Jim never remembered much about his mother. She died when he was six. His earliest memory of her could have been a dream for all he knew.

*****

It was late, late enough that Jim’s father had already passed out on the worn-in couch. Noreen slipped out from under her bed sheet, walking over to her son’s cot at the edge of the master bedroom. She waited a moment by his bed, suppressing a cough. Then she gently shook him awake. Jim’s eyes opened blearily, and his mother’s finger pressed softly against his lips in warning. He nodded when he was awake enough to register what was happening: star time.

The two of them tiptoed their way to the back door, avoiding the creaks in the wood floors with knowledgeable steps. Slipping out the back, Noreen led the way to the softest patch of grass in the field. It wasn’t very far from the house. The back door was still clearly visible. It was far enough, however, to speak out loud without being overheard by anyone in the house.

Father’s sheep were already sleeping. At least the few they had. Mr. Moriarty had sold three quarters of the flock to pay for more booze and cheap hookers. The wind was calm though it was still cool. Jim pulled at his favorite onesie, the only one he had. It was black with glow in the dark stars on it, just like the stickers he had on the wall next to his cot. It didn’t glow very much anymore but he still wore it. His father sometimes yelled at him because it was what a baby wore. His mother told he looked like a scientist. He wore it and always tried to change before his father saw him in it the next morning.

Once at their favorite spot, Jim’s mother laid down on the bed of green and point to the sky. Jim slid in next to her, his fingers wrapped tight around her thin waist.

“You see Orion’s Belt?”

“Three Kings!” Jim exclaimed.

“That’s right!”

Noreen mapped out the sky for her son. Each constellation. Each planet. Each individual star. His mother would whisper in a gentle lilt all about the heavens. She traced the Plough, both small and large. She told the story (again) about how the rich people had the big spoon and the poor had the little spoon. Jim wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah but guess what?”

“What?” Noreen asked with a gentle smile.

“We have North Star,” Jim whispered like it was a secret. “Only us!”

Noreen chuckled, not fully understanding why it was important that the poor had the North Star, or why her son would find that so exciting. She shifted to look at him, her long black hair falling over her shallow cheeks. Her eyes were warm like dark chocolate, and Jim’s were the same now. Dark and deep like two black holes.

“Only us.” She repeated.

Noreen told Jim plenty of stories on those nights. She tickled him when he lost his focus on her, too absorbed by the white lights in the blue maze of space to listen to her made up Bible stories about how the stars came to be. Then they would lay there for as long as they dared before returning home. Noreen would slip her fingers into his as they walked barefoot back inside, and Jim could never forget how those stars reflected in her hazel eyes.

*****

If Jim’s memory served him correctly, those night trips were probably no longer than twenty minutes. Time seemed long and distant as a kid. If only it never caught up to you. Jim’s father always woke up every hour to either yell or drink some more. If he had ever caught Noreen or her son outdoors, he would have beaten them for trying to escape. If he had seen them awake sneaking around the house, he would have beaten them for trying to murder him in his sleep. Jim never understood. He would never fully understand it. But it’s just like they say: you forget what people say, you forget what people do, but you never forget how people made you feel. Marcas Moriarty made him feel worthless. Noreen Moriarty made him feel like a star.

**Author's Note:**

> *from what I’ve researched, most Caucasian babies are born with blue eyes because they’re not born with the amount of melanin that they’ll eventually have. The more melanin, the more brown. During infancy, the eye color can change to green, hazel, or brown.


End file.
